


against the stone and steel

by avarry



Category: Simple Plan (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, chuck is a bro, hurt david
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avarry/pseuds/avarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David thinks pretending she doesn't exist would cost him one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	against the stone and steel

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this in my old lj ficcing account: whitepaperonly. Incredibly, it still exists although I've long abandoned it. I’ve edited some parts but more or less, it’s still the same thing. 
> 
> This was done using the song fic meme that was all the rage before. Basically, you turn on your music player and hit shuffle. Whatever songs come up will be the inspiration for your fic. I decided to select one pairing and listened to a couple of songs. I created the sections based on the song playing. ( I included the title of the song and the particular line that brought about that section of the fic.) Because of that the whole thing is disjointed. Oh and this was written way before Pierre and Lachelle married. So. Yeah. On to fic:

 

**ii.**

**Move Along – The All American Rejects**

**_Such a heart that will lead you to deceiving – 472_ **

 

 

Pierre’s breath is still deep when he falls down beside David and David waits until both of them are breathing normal again before he stands up and goes to the bathroom.

 

He splashes his face with cold water and slides it through his hair to keep it from sticking to his face. He looks at his face in the mirror, down to the marks on his neck and chest. He should be happy, really, this is what he wants but there’s a nagging feeling at the back of his head at how utterly wrong this is.

 

Pierre calls him and he splashes his face with water one more time before turning back to the bedroom.

 

Pierre sits at the end of the bed, in boxers and socks and it reminds David of the first time they kissed, all sloppy and messy and awkward, and the first time they did this, nervous but determined. It makes David smile that warm smile.

 

“What are you smiling about?”

 

Pierre looks at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. It makes David’s smile grow wider, more amused than sentimental.

 

Pierre walks to him and kisses off the smile on his face and they chuckle and kiss and chuckle again because this is them, all childish banters and kisses and laughter.

 

The familiar tune of Pierre’s cell phone makes them stop. They both know the tune is reserved for _her_ and it makes them stop and walk away, fast, like a kid caught with his hand on the cookie jar.

 

David looks for his clothes and puts them on. Pierre is already talking with Lachelle in a hushed voice and David doesn’t spare Pierre a glance as he heads to the living room.

 

He sprawls on the battered couch and flicks the TV on. He changes the channel to some random cartoon, bright colours spilling over the images of black penned drawings. He feigns amusement, doesn’t know why he has to. He’s alone, no one’s there to try to figure why he’s eyes are unfocused and his hands trembling. He pretends to watch anyway, he’s too used to care.

 

He tries not to wait for Pierre.

 

When Pierre finally walks in and sidles behind him, he makes room but doesn’t even bother to look.

 

“Hey.”

 

Pierre’s voice is soothing, and he bumps their shoulder together, knock their knees together.

 

David looks at him then, trying his best to hide the hurt beneath his eyes, he tries to look indifferent, thinks he failed.

 

“I’m sorry about that.”

 

He thinks pretending she doesn’t exist would cost him one day.

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

David knows it does but he decides not to dwell on that right now, chooses to let it slide this time. Right now, he kisses Pierre, fits their mouth together and lets his fingertips etch pattern on his arm.

 

 

**iv.**

**Rain – Patty Griffin**

**_Pounding up against the stone and steel, walls that I won’t climb – 1,796_ **

 

 

The sun towers over him, rays burning the skin at the back of his neck, making his face a little red, his eyes a little watery.

 

They’re at some resort Lachelle’s friend owns. “Something to keep off the heat.” He vaguely remembers Sebastian yelling before dragging him to the white rented van. He doesn’t remember agreeing, doesn’t remember saying no either. Honestly, he doesn’t remember a lot of things nowadays. Mainly because they aren’t important. Most things aren’t important anymore.

 

He sits at the shore, sand settling between his toes, salty air blowing black bangs from his eyes. He listens to the crashing of the waves on the shore and the melodic laugh of kids running around, balls and kites in hand. He thinks this is nice and it give him a little comfort, a little peace.

 

Chuck sits beside him, hands him a cold can of beer and asks him, “What the fuck are you doing under the heat?”

 

He thinks lying won’t get him far, thinks telling the truth won’t make a difference. He settles for not saying anything and playing with his toes and the sand.

 

Chuck doesn’t seem to mind, just takes a swig off his beer can and watches the rest of the guys have the time of their life.

 

“This is getting old.” When Chuck speaks, he doesn’t look at him, just lets the words out. But David knows, it’s for him, knows without Chuck saying so.

 

And David looks at him, eyebrows quirked in feigned confusion. Chuck doesn’t return the look, just continues staring at the deep blue water and the shadow of the raging sun.

 

“You and Pierre, it’s getting old and complicated and a little out of hand. It’s affecting all of us. It’s not just the two of you. There’s Lachelle and there’s the band.”

 

It makes him angry, furious even. He wants to scream at Chuck for being an insensitive prick who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But before he can even say the words, the fight leaves him and he doesn’t say anything. Chuck’s right and he can’t do much about it.

 

He doesn’t say anything and just kicks off the sand to the salty air, rage finding a partial outlet.

 

He settles down a little after that. Just sits and grumbles and mumbles under his breath, still training his eyes at the sand and his toes.

 

A couple of minutes pass before Sebastian is trudging where they sit, trying to pry both of them from the shore. Chuck tells him, “We’ll be there in a second,” before he looks at David and gives him a pointed look.

 

“I don’t how you do it or what you do just please fix this before someone gets seriously hurt.”

 

David looks at Chuck as he goes to soak in the beach and thinks fixing is such an understatement. Fixing is for things you could repair. David knows they’re beyond that. Whatever happens, whatever path they choose to take, it will only end in tears. Even now, there is no question as to who is getting hurt. They’re long past preventing someone to hurt. Right now, it isn’t about prevention anymore. It’s all about survival.

 

He sees Pierre walk toward him, sits beside him. He feels cold hands lightly rub at the sunburnt skin at the back of his neck. It’s soothing and he sighs tiredly and lets his shoulder fall.

 

When he doesn’t talk and continues to play with the sand stuck between his toes, Pierre bumps shoulder with him and asks him “Hey, you alright?”

 

David doesn’t answer, thinks of what Chuck told him and the gravity of the situation and the severity of their lie and thinks that “No, I’m not alright, haven’t been for a while now Pierre,” complete with annoyance and snarl. But he doesn’t tell him that, thinks that’s kind of unfair to tell him that.

 

He goes for, “Are you ever going to break up with her?” instead.

 

His voice is soft when he asks, all trace of boyish charm traded for something more serious, more real.

 

David feels Pierre stiffen beside him, feels soothing hand leave his sunburnt skin. He knows he probably just dropped an axe over their heads. This is a conversation they never skirt around, never acknowledge, never talk about. It’s forbidden grounds. And he thinks he can’t blame Pierre for going all speechless on him.

 

But David thinks they can’t get too far with this – this shitty hide and seek they’re playing. It’s tiring him out, taking too much from him.

 

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything. I never make you do anything. This is just me asking you a question. You have to make up your mind, you know that.”

 

“You’re being unfair.”

 

“No Pierre, you’re being selfish. I can’t do this anymore. She’ll know it sooner or later.“

 

He knows he’s probably being rude, a little too pushy.

 

“You didn’t seem to have a problem last night. What the fuck happened?”

 

Pierre’s voice gets a little louder and David hears anger sifting in his words.

 

“I always seem like I don’t have a problem, but I do.”

 

David’s voice matches Pierre’s and he thinks that they’ll probably have a fight by the end of the night.

 

“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me last night?”

 

He’s a little surprised to hear Pierre’s voice go lower, softer. If it’s because he doesn’t want to draw attention or he feels a little guilty David doesn’t really know, finds he doesn’t have to heart to know.

 

“Would it have made a fucking difference if I did?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Don’t fuck with me Pierre. We both know it wouldn’t have.”

 

He shakes his head a little, tries to be composed, tries to keep his voice low.

 

“I’m just so tired Pierre. It hurts too much. I’m selfish. I don’t want to keep sharing you with her.”

 

He looks at where the rest of the band and Lachelle and her friends are basking, laughing and throwing handfuls of sand and water at each other.

 

“But–“ Pierre starts, maybe thinks up of an argument or a defense or an excuse or finally the courage to just say something but finds none or maybe he does, just doesn’t tell him.

 

Pierre opens his mouth, closes it, open then closes it again.

 

David looks into the sea. It’s nearing dusk, the gold threads into the purple horizon.

 

“Fuck David, can we not do this right now?”

 

David thinks he hears desperation in Pierre’s voice, he isn’t used to hearing it, thinks it’s nice to be one of the few people who could actually makes Pierre feel like this. It’s bittersweet.

 

He thinks it’s a little ironic. He isn’t the one he’s dating but he’s the one who could strip Pierre to the core, or at least as close to it as one can get. He hates this, this fucking compromise of a relationship.

 

“I’ve been with her for so long.”

 

He bites back the venom wants to say “I’ve been with you for fucking longer than her,” but doesn’t. And when he speaks he keeps it light, doesn’t want to be snappy and snarky at Pierre for saying something he doesn’t want.

 

“Then choose her.”

 

“But I’m in love with you”

 

David doesn’t stop the corners of his mouth from arching, doesn’t stop the warmth that spreads in his stomach.

 

“Then choose me.”

 

“But...”

 

David thinks he hears his heart fall. _But..._

 

“Pierre, I know you think that someone’s going to get hurt if you choose, I know you don’t want anyone to hurt,  but honestly, we’re all getting fucked up whether you choose or not. But look at us. We’re all hurting. You’re hurting. She’s hurting. She doesn’t know it yet but she already is. And fuck Pierre. It’s fucking excruciating for me. I can’t even fucking say her name.”

He takes a breath and another. Trying to calm his heart, trying to keep the emotions from breaking him too much.

“It’s not supposed to be this hard.”

 

When he speaks, his voice is silent, almost whispering. He thinks Pierre heard him anyway.

 

“Hey!”

 

 He sees Lachelle and the boys come over, bright smiles on their faces.

 

“Can we talk about this later at your place?”

 

Pierre whispers to him and David curtly nods.

 

“Hey guys, do you want to stay over, we’ve got three rooms, Andrea told me we could use it.”

 

It takes him three seconds to think about it, another two to find his voice.

 

“Actually I can’t stay. I need talk with someone, told them I’ll be home later.”

 

He looks at Pierre tries to tell him about the talk they’ll have at his place.

 

When David turns back to Lachelle, he tries to smile an apologetic smile, thinks he’s succeeded.

 

He turns to Pierre and looks at him again because this is it. It’s not a simple statement anymore, it’s him asking Pierre to choose – _her or me_.

 

He knows he’s probably being a little pushy, a little too harsh.

 

Pierre doesn’t speak even as the guys take down their seat.

 

They both know what he’s asking, it’s Pierre’s brilliant plan to talk tonight at his place anyway. He doesn’t mind that he’s probably bitching right now, this is the subtlest way of asking Pierre to make up his mind.

 

Pierre shakes his head a little.

 

The blow hits him hard it feels like a physical blow, a punch in the gut, and he tries his hardest to not let anything show on his face. He’s done this before, thinks he can do it again. He’s good at pretending anyway.

 

“What you’re choosing girls over us now?”

 

Jeff pinches his cheek and he swats it away.

 

“What? Pierre has Lachelle right now. Whose being unfair?”

 

He thinks he hears Chuck cough at that, thinks he sees a pang of guilt and shame in Pierre’s eyes but he isn’t backing down. He’s decided to draw the line, draw the cards and he’s standing his ground.

 

He feels tense silence. So he speaks, just to break the ice. He doesn’t want to create a scene, there’s enough drama as it is.

 

“I need to get laid too man.” Tries to tack a laugh at the end. “Well, Au revoir, lady love waits for no one.”

 

Lachelle’s laughting is lilting. Jeff wolf-whitles and winks at him. He plays up the drama with wagging eyebrows and a kiss blown to the wind.

 

Chuck doesn’t but it though and just gives him a long hard look.

 

He doesn’t look at Pierre even as he stands up, dusts his clothes, slips on his flip flops and slides his jacket on.

 

Pierre doesn’t budge, doesn’t speak. David thinks he doesn’t have too.

 

 

**I.**

**Shut the light, shut the shade – 383**

**I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight – Norah Jones**

 

 

He closes his eyes, revels in the moment, lets his sense take it all in – Pierre’s hand on his hips, lips on his neck.

David shudders under the touch, senses going haywire. And he feels Pierre’s hands tracing his spine, tracing circles and lines.

 

When Pierre bites at his shoulders then run his lips and tongue over it, he tries hard not to shiver and throw his head back.

 

He swears he can hear every hitch in his breath now because shit Pierre just moves, slow and easy, teasing him and pushing and making him feel and hear and fuck, it makes him bite his lip to hold back a moan.

 

They kiss and it’s messy and sloppy and tongues dancing and lips sliding and teeth clashing and nipping and biting and Pierre moves faster and harder and faster, damn harder and it makes David arch and dig his nails on Pierre’s shoulder and moan. And god he can feel the sweat sliding on his back and just – “Fuck Pierre do that again.”

Warmth spreads on his belly, and he thinks he could die of hypersensitivity right now because Pierre is really doing it again and faster and harder angling all his thrusts and making him see stars.

 

His skin tingles where Pierre had ghosted his fingers, where he felt Pierre’s lips slide. He feels himself arch with every thrust, moan with every move. And he hears his voice getting louder and there would probably be hell to pay in the morning.

 

And Pierre moves in a frenzy, pace too fast he can’t meet him anymore. He settles to letting everything engulf him until he sees white under his eyes, stomach coiling and burning.

“Pierre-” And it’s probably cliché and whinny and guttural and drawn out too long but he finds himself not caring anymore.

 

Pierre still moves though, erratic and quick until he’s cursing under his breath and his fingertips sink in David’s hips.

 

When Pierre lies beside him, they both catch their breaths.

 

David looks at the ceiling and can’t help but chuckle at the how stupid they must look, naked and limbs tangled, then at “That was fucking amazing.” And Pierre laughs along with him till their facing each other with eyes squinting in jest.

 

Pierre kisses him after that.

 

 

**iii.**

**Between how it is and how it should be – 883**

**Dare You To Move – Switchfoot**

 

They watch old horror films and laugh their head off, the color of fake blood reflected in their eyes and the sound of screams and manic laugh echoing in their ears.

 

David thinks this is good, them laughing, their shoulders grazing, knees bumping, all casual and friendly and more.

 

The buff guy in mighty tight shirt tries to save the girl in frilly white dress. He fails and she ends up butchered, her head rolling off the steps. But by the end of the movies he hooks up with this girl, yellow shirt and black shorts that ride below her hips.

 

When the film ends, they talk a little while they choose the next bad movie to watch.

 

Pierre talks about the girl in yellow shirt, thinks she’s hot, doesn’t mind that she ends up with buff guy.

 

David argues, tells him, “Compromises like that are stupid. You can never really be happy with just a compromise. That or buff guy never loved girl in white dress anyway.”

 

Pierre tells him he’s taking it too much to heart then teases him because “You like the girl in frilly white dress don’t you.”

 

David just gives him a look then swats his arm hard then laughs a childish laugh.

 

“Maybe. But she’d just have to wait. Currently, I have a boyfriend.” It’s all said as a joke but David can feel the gravity of that. They’ve never really talked about it, never labeled it as such. For a moment, David’s scared he may have said the wrong thing.

 

Pierre just cocks an eyebrow and smiles then leans in and kisses the worry out of him.

 

“Can’t have you running off with someone else can we?”

 

Pierre whispers in his ear before pushing him down on the couch and kissing the life out of him.

 

It makes him feel a little better.

 

When Pierre kisses him deeper and snakes a hand under his shirt, kneading the flesh of his stomach and tracing his nipples, he thinks that just made him feel a lot better.

 

Pierre flicks his nipple. David mewls and bucks his hips in retaliation. Pierre moans at that.

 

David can feel the hardness of Pierre against him and he tries his best to make Pierre move so they can both get rid of their clothes.

 

Then there’s someone at the door, light knocks and sing-song voice drifting in the room just as Pierre finally decides to get rid of David’s shirt.

 

And David would ignore the knocking in favor of getting Pierre out of his shirt too but the knock comes again, this time followed by a question. In David’s lust-hazed brain, he registers the voice as someone he’s heard before.

 

Pierre is trying to unbutton his pants now but David stills him with a hand and tells him to listen. David watches Pierre’s face turn from annoyance at being interrupted to panicked in a matter of seconds. It’s then that it hits David.

 

“Pierre, are you there?” Lachelle’s voice is clearer now that David is listening.

 

He tries to disentangle himself from knotted limbs and deep kisses and messy clothes. Grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head.

 

Pierre tries to smooth out his clothes, tries to fix his hair, tries to look innocent. He clears his throat before answering. “Yeah Dear, just a moment.”

David does the same. He fixes his hair into some sort of order and tries his best to calm his heart. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale._

 

Pierre stands. David remains on the couch.

 

When Pierre turns the knob of the door, David turns the TV on.

 

They don’t enter the house. David strains to hear what they’re saying. He hears dinner and plans and restaurant. He fills in the rest of the blanks.

 

When Pierre comes back, he doesn’t look at David, he stares at the green wall of the living room instead.

 

“We’re going to have dinner. Do you want anything?”

 

He doesn’t even have to ask who was at the door, doesn’t have to ask who he’s going to have dinner with, it’s already given, already a standing truth.

 

David doesn’t answer, just stares at Pierre hard and long, anger and frustration tempering just beneath the surface. He wants to ask questions, ask him if they will always be like this, if he’ll always be like this: just a secret he keeps in his back pocket, ask Pierre if he’s ever going to choose.

 

He thinks being the dirty little secret is getting old and he’ll probably wear out sooner or later. But now, now he thinks he can’t break away just yet.

 

When Pierre finally decides to look at him, he thinks he sees a confused, frustrated little kid and it makes David’s resolve waver a little, makes his anger ebb a little.

 

“David.“

 

Pierre knows what David is thinking, knows he can’t do this now, not now.

 

“Please.”

 

David just shrugs, smiles a cocky smile and goes back to being the trusty friend he is. He turns to watch multi-colored animals bashing each other.

 

“Whatever man, I won’t be here when you come back anyway.”

 

He keeps his eyes on the comedic duo until he hears the soft click of the door.

 

The yellow guy laughs loud but David only hears the deafening silence.

 

 

**v.**

**But it’s mine to decide when I’ll be alright – 403**

**Cross My Heart – Rocket Summers**

 

 

 

David walks the familiar roads to his apartment, dust clinging to his toes, shoulders bumping with the rest of the world.

 

He hears his phone ring and he answers it, doesn’t even bother to look who it is, just flips it open and brings it to his ears.

 

He won’t admit but he hopes to hear Pierre’s voice.

 

“Everyone’s been thru it. Once or twice in their life. You’ll get over it.“

 

He thinks his heart just sunk a little lower.

 

David listens to Chuck and thinks “That’s just crap. No one knows where he’s standing at, no one would ever feel as fucked up as what I’m feeling right now.”

 

He thinks he may have said that out loud because Chuck gives him a bitter laugh.

 

“Unrequited love is still unrequited. Broken love is still broken. Doesn’t matter what form or what gender or what the fuck the cause is, it’s still the same shit. You’re not the only who wasn’t chosen.“

 

He doesn’t answer, just lets the silence stretch longer. He hears laughter in the background and the distant crashing of the waves. It makes him feel shitty then nauseous then both.

 

“Trust me David. It’ll all work out eventually.”

 

When Chuck speaks again, his voice is a little sad, a little more understanding.

 

He doesn’t wait for David to speak this time, just hangs-up the phone.

 

He listens to the soft buzzing on the end of the line till some tall guy tells him to get off the middle of the road.

 

David walks then, pockets his phone and walks back to his empty apartment.

 

The traffic lights changes to green and he looks at cars zoom past him. He stands with the rest of the passersby, waiting for their turn to walk and arrive.

 

He supposes Chuck is right, there are more people hurting out there. There’s probably one who’s in worse shoes than he’s in. And there had been those who had been here before, those that actually survived the fall.

 

He hears the healing is harder than the fall.

 

He wonders how people do it – moving on, getting over.

 

And he’s a little afraid, a little anxious, a little eager to start the trek.

 

He thinks he’s not okay with it, but he can live.

 

The traffic light changes color and he starts to walk with the rest of the world leaving brown dust at his wake.


End file.
